


#PeterParkerProtectionSquad

by constellationsofsentences



Series: Civil War Fix-It Verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Avengers ACTUALLY helping Peter when he needs it, Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Civil War Fix-It, Civil War Team Captain America, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Not Tony Stark Friendly, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, i mean it mostly is but you know...., inspired by the entire anti tony tumblr tag thanks guys, ppl calling tony out on his bs, stop may parker erasure 2kforever, very dialogue heavy because words are not my friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-24 01:31:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15619500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellationsofsentences/pseuds/constellationsofsentences
Summary: 3 times the Avengers helped out Spider-Man, and 1 time someone else did.





	1. Rhodey

**Author's Note:**

> i rewatched civil war for this. it was a nightmare. 
> 
> also tony stark gives approximately 0 fucks about peter throughout the entirety of ca:cw and sm:hoco and that is Not Good. here to fix the lack of (good) mentoring is me, with this fic. thanks.
> 
> ps. dont read if ur a tony stan???? duh????

Rhodey finds out about Spider-Man’s age completely by accident. He’s wandering around the tower, wishing his wheelchair was less clunky and humming to himself. He wheels up a corridor, past one of the meeting rooms. Happy and Tony are conferring about something.

“Kid won’t stop texting me,” says Happy. He’s obviously tired. “Tones, he’s so young. Are you sure–“

“He’s fifteen. Of course he’s texting you,” says Tony, dismissively.

“Exactly,” continues Happy. “He’s _fifteen._ Are you sure it’s safe for him to be doing his Spidery stuff without our help?”

Rhodey starts. _Spider-Man is fifteen?_ There is no way that’s safe. Or legal. He stares at Tony, waiting for his reply. Maybe Tony is–? He shakes it off. There’s not really any acceptable explanation for this.

“He’ll be _fine_ ,” Tony insists.

“But–“ Happy is obviously distressed– “shouldn’t we at least be _training_ him?”

Oh, _God._ They’re not even _training_ him.

“What the _hell_ , Tony,” says Rhodey, because he’s got to say _something._ “What the hell?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. Happy starts, and looks apologetic.

“You brought a minor to Berlin? To fight against several enhanced individuals who _don’t know he’s a minor_? You know that’s kidnapping, right? Like, actually. Also, not training him? What?”

Tony has the good grace to look ashamed, but says nothing. Rhodey can feel himself bubbling over with anger that has been present ever since the fight in Berlin.

“This isn’t even the worst thing you’ve done in the past year, Tony. You’ve been doing awful thing after awful thing. What happens if he does something bigger? Has he signed the Accords? ‘Cause if he has, he’s breaking them. Hard. Will he end up on the Raft? It’s bad enough to do that to adults, Tony, but a kid?”

Happy looks shocked; he obviously hasn’t considered this before.

“He’ll be fine,” says Tony. It’s unconvincing. Rhodey stares at him.

“I saw his newest video,” he says. “He stopped a car chase. Caught some guy with a gun. They _shot him_ , Tony, and he’s a kid. You’ve given him a suit. You’re enabling this. I bet his guardian doesn’t know. Do they?”

Tony says nothing, which is all the answer Rhodey needs. He crosses his arms. “Oh, my God. Are you even making sure he’s safe?”

“He has Happy’s number.”

Rhodey raises both eyebrows. “Are you _responding_ to his messages?”

Happy pulls a sheepish face. Rhodey stares, before backing out of the room.

“Rhodey!” calls Happy, before Tony murmurs something.

He can’t believe this. Except he can. Wasn’t Tony the one who exposed Clint’s family with no regard for their safety? Wasn’t he the one who tried to kill Bucky Barnes for something he had no control over? Rhodey realises, suddenly, that he’s been making excuses for Tony’s self-centered behaviour for years. Not even _Loki_ exposed Clint’s family, and he had access to the entirety of his brain. Almost all their teammates are in hiding because of a stupid fight over a stupid set of Accords that Tony has broken countless times despite putting his teammates in jail for doing the same.When did Rhodey start ignoring this?

The realisation makes him sick. “Oh,” he says, “God.”

He wants accountability. He really, really does. But the Accords have done nothing to introduce it, really. He’s seen Tony doing his Iron Man business, ignoring the Accords, while he put Sam and Clint and Wanda and even that guy Scott into jail for the same. A super-weird superhero jail with electrifying collars and no trials. But he’s treating this kid as an asset. Not as a _kid._

Rhodey won’t let this kid be a weapon the way Wanda was. He won’t let him be thrown away like that.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Steve.

  


Steve picks up after the third call. “What, Rhodes?” he says.

“It’s Spider-Man.”

“What about him?” Steve asks. He’s obviously tired. Rhodey faintly hears the voice of someone asking him _What’s up?_ It sounds like Sam.

Rhodey winces. “He’s fifteen.”

Steve spends several moments swearing. Then he says, “Did you know?”

“No. I just found out. It’s just–he brought him to Berlin, man. You know that’s _legally_ kidnapping, right? If his guardian didn’t know, which, let’s face it, they probably didn’t. Or at least, they didn’t know the _reason._ And you guys didn’t know, did you?”

“We were fighting a _minor?_ ” Several voices seem to inquire at this point, and Rhodey hears Steve explain. There’s a lot of cursing involved.

“What do I do, man?” he says into the phone. “I have to find him, make sure he’s safe. I can’t stop him from doing it, probably, but–Cap, nobody’s even _training_ him. Tony, he’s–they’re not even answering his calls. Cap, what if something bad happens? They won’t know.”

Steve exhales, deep in though. “You need to find him. He’s from Queens, I think. He said–that, after I dropped a whole–God, what are those things called. The things that let you get on planes?–Anyway, I dropped one of those on him. _God, I dropped one of those on him_.”

“I can’t search the whole of Queens. And I can’t tail him. I’m–I’m paralysed, remember.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, softly, “I remember. And I’m so sorry, Rhodey.”

Neither of them say anything for a while. Then Steve says, “I guess one of us could try to help? We’d have to stay out of sight, though.”

Someone says something on the other line. Steve replies. “No, Wanda, that’s way too dangerous. Where would you stay? What would you–yeah.” He returns to the conversation on his phone. “Listen, Rhodes, hang tight. I can send someone out there, if you want. But you can’t–“ He pauses. The words _Tell Tony_ hang unspoken between them. “I’ll get back to you?”

“Just so you know,” says Rhodey, “I’m still with the Accords. But they were flawed. And I’m sorry.”

Steve barks a laugh. “I know. I’m sorry, too. This is just one giant mess.”

“Yeah. I guess neither of us were in the right completely,” says Rhodey, thoughtfully. “Don’t tell Sam, but I kinda miss you guys.”

Steve laughs. They hang up.

  


Rhodey lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling. He thinks about Spider-Man, who’s a kid, and Iron Man, who isn’t, but acts like one, sometimes. The former is obviously a good kid. He’s trying his best, or at least it seems that way. In a few ways, Tony’s helped him. He’s given him the suit, which keeps him safe, to a degree. But he also took him to a German airport to fight a bunch of highly trained enhanced individuals and/or spies and/or Ant-Men. He also endangered him: the kid _had_ been injured before Rhodey had gone down, so much so that Tony had told him to stop fighting. The whole situation with the Accords was not one that children should be involved with, end of story. But Tony brought him. Tony flew him halfway across the world to get him to fight those people who could have hurt him. Who did hurt him. But he must have known how old the kid was. He knew how to find him.

Happy knocks on his door when he comesto check on him.

“Just wanted to know you were okay,” he says. “Glad you’ve not run off, or whatever.”

“That would be a bit difficult,” says Rhodey. He doesn’t mean for it to come off harsh, but it does. Happy winces.

“About the kid–“ he begins.

“Can you get me a meeting with him? He can wear his mask if he wants. I don’t wanna… invade his privacy. Just make sure he’s…okay.”

Happy smiles. “That would be good. I hate ignoring him, but we haven’t got anything to tell him to do. He’s really keen, I guess. He leaves me voicemails about the stuff he does every day. It’s kinda sweet.”

“I’ll get him trained up,” says Rhodey. “Kid’s got no idea how to fight.”

“I won’t tell Tony,” offers Happy.

“That would probably be for the best.”

  


The kid shows up, masked, to the coffee shop when Happy tells him to. People are already pointing at Rhodey, but once Spider-Man shows up all hell breaks loose.

Rhodey says, “Hey, kid. Thanks for meeting me here.”

“Mr. War Machine, sir! It’s no problem… Is there? A problem?”

“Oh, a little,” says Rhodey, shrugging. He chucks a tip on his table and leads the kid out of the cafe. He bounces along besides him.

“Really? What is it.”

Rhodey shrugs again. “Your Mr. Stark isn’t training you.”

“Yeah, but I’m fine. Completely. Mr. Stark’s doing his best. He’s super busy, and stuff.”

“No offence, kid, but you're not fine. You could really use some training.”

“That’s–hey! I’m helping people. I’m doing good.”

“I’m not denying that. You're good at saving people.” Rhodey tries to make his voice as soothing as possible. “I just want to make sure you’re the best you can be. Nobody's amazing when they start out.”

The kid stops. He cocks his head at Rhodey as though studying him. “Does Mr. Stark know about this?”

“What Mr. Stark doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

There’s a long pause. The kid surveys him, up and down. Even with the mask his emotions are easy to read. Finally, he says, “You’re Mr. Stark’s buddy. That’s good enough for me, I guess.”

Rhodey smiles. “You’re a good kid.”

He leads him up the street as Spider-Man begins to question him excitedly about the functionality of his wheelchair. The streets are fairly crowded, but not too crowded. He hopes the location they chose for his training will be discreet enough to hide them from any passing civilians.

  


At the sight of the Rogue Avengers’ car, Spider-Man stares at him.

“This situation,” he says, “is really, really dodgy. MJ would tell me to run the other way. But then again, MJ totally hates Mr. Stark, so..?”

“Kid,” says Rhodey, “do you know anything about what you were fighting for, in Berlin?”

“About the Accords? I know, uh, a little? My friend MJ is _totally_ against them, but I don’t know much. Which is ironic because I fought over them, I guess. I don’t know. Mr. Stark said he was right, and he’s, like, my idol, so…”

Rhodey struggles for a way to word it. “The thing is,” he begins, “it’s not really so cut and dry.”

The kid stares at him. “Are you, uh, saying what I think you’re saying? Have you recruited me to go fight against the Accords? Because I am _not_ down with that.”

“Have you signed them?”

“No,” says the kid, carefully. “Mr. Stark says I’m too young. And they don’t apply to me, so long as I don’t… do anything _big,_ without him there.”

“Huh,” is Rhodey’s only response. He tries again. “Look, kid, the thing is, the Avengers–the ones who didn’t sign–they’re not bad people. They were fighting for what they thought was right, and afterwards they were fighting so they could get this guy, because Barnes, he was framed, you know. There was this guy who was trying to do... something to him. But the whole mess with the accords meant we didn't believe them.”

“Oh.” The kid fiddles with his webshooters, watching the city go by. “Are they–okay?”

“Do you want to meet them?”

Spider-Man freezes. “Uh…”

“It’s cool if you don’t. I can just turn this car around. I’m not going to make you meet these guys if you don’t want to, okay, Spider-Man?”

Spider-Man smiles faintly. “Mr. Stark always gets that wrong.”

“What?”

“He calls me Spider-Boy. I hate it. It’s not my name.”

“Well, Spider-Man, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you want to come meet my buddies, or do you not?”

Spider-Man turns his head to the side once more. His fingers twist together as he considers. Finally, he says, “You know what? I would. Like to meet them, I mean.”

“It’s not all of them,” says Rhodey. “Just Wanda and Sam. And I think Scott might video-call at some point.”

“Oh! I tied him up. Does he hate me?”

Rhodey laughs. It is impossible not to like this kid. He’s impossibly earnest. “No, of course not, kid.”

  


Rhodey wheels himself into the warehouse while the kid bounces alongside him. He’s obviously excited, but hangs back at the sight of the Falcon and Scarlet Witch. The latter steps forward to shake his hand.

“Spider-Man, no?” she asks. The lilt of her accent filters through at the vigilante’s name. “I have seen your videos. You are good.”

The kid beams, or at least Rhodey assumes he does. The way he bounces on the balls of his feet seem to imply it. “Ms. Scarlet Witch, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you, uh, properly.”

Wanda laughs. “Am only nineteen. Not _Ms_. Anything yet.”

Spider-Man laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, uh…”

“Wanda,” she says.

“Okay, Wanda, uh, sorry. And, uh, Mr. Wilson, sir,” he says, turning to the Falcon, who’s leaning against a pillar, sizing him up, “thank you, for not hating me, or vaulting me into the sky, or whatever.”

Sam laughs. “No problem.”

Rhodey settles back in his wheelchair and watches as they begin to walk the kid through the basics of a punch.

  


They’re there for two hours. Peter vaults across the ceiling as he and Wanda play-fight. Sam and Rhodey talk on the ground. Redwing follows the kids around to make sure they don’t hurt each other, or themselves, but Rhodey tries not to be too invasive. Scott video-called in for a while. Apparently he’d been giving Sam tips on how to behave around kids.

“Cassie’s not very old,” he said, “but the principles are the same. Don’t treat them like they’re stupid, don’t try and undermine their opinions, and don’t tear them down after they achieve something, but don’t puff them up _too hard_ either. And if they make a mistake, try and explain why it happened and how to fix it. Don’t lose it too much, or you lose them.” (Sam had laughed at the wording, but Scott had scolded him, saying, “It’s true, man! I don’t make the parenting rules. I just pass them forward to you.” Rhodey had reminded him that Spider-Man probably had a perfectly capable guardian at home, but Scott said, “Teaching is the _same thing_ , man.” Despite his urges to remind Scott of his non-teacherness, Rhodey stayed quiet. They didn’t know each other very well. Sam took the honour instead.)

Now, they sit passing a bunch of grapes back and forward and watching the occasional bursts of red light Wanda makes. Spider-Man is hooting with laughter as he lands a punch.

Sam stands up. “Now _that’s_ how to do it, kid!”

The kid in question lands in front of them, out of breath but still bouncing on his toes. Wanda appears next to him, grinning. They high-five. Rhodey hadn’t realised people could become so close in such a short time, but he grins.

“You’re doing good, Spider-Man.”

“Thank you, thank you, _thank you,_ Mr. Rhodes. I should probably head back, my Aunt’ll be worried, but thank you so much. I feel like I’ve really improved so much in just these few hours. You guys are so _cool_!”

“Wow,” says Sam, “he’s a talker.”

The kid stops and says, “Sorry.”

“No, no, no, kid, it’s not a bad thing.”

Spider-Man laughs with glee. “Wanda, it was _so cool_ , when you levitated that crate, and it was like, _whoosh,_ and I was all, _ahhh!!_ ”

“Not as cool as when you tight-roped across those two columns on your webs! I can’t wait to do this again!”

Spider-Man stops, and stares at Rhodey. “I can–I can come back?”

“Yeah, kid,” says Rhodey. “Just, you probably shouldn’t tell Tony. He’s still, uh…’’

“Butthurt,” offers Sam, which makes Wanda snort. The kid hides his laughter behind his hand. “That man can _hold a grudge_.”

“Well, yeah,” agrees Rhodey. “Best not to mention it.”

“But I can come back?”

“Yeah. How does the same time next week sound?”

“Uh,” exclaims the kid, “ _amazing_!”


	2. Wanda & Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda gets a call from Peter. He’s breathless and tired and obviously worn down. He begins to speak in a rush about high-tech weapons and men with wings. Wanda has to tell him several times to slow down before he does, panting, his fear bleeding across the connection no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
> 
> “–and then Mr. Stark pulled me out, and he was shouting, but it wasn’t him it was a fake robot, and I’m scared, Wanda. Mr. Stark said he’d look into it but I don’t know how hard and I–” _I’m scared_ , he doesn’t say. _I don’t know what to do._

Wanda gets a call from Peter. He’s breathless and tired and obviously worn down. He begins to speak in a rush about high-tech weapons and men with wings. Wanda has to tell him several times to slow down before he does, panting, his fear bleeding across the connection no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“–and then Mr. Stark pulled me out, and he was shouting, but it wasn’t him it was a fake robot, and I’m scared, Wanda. Mr. Stark said he’d look into it but I don’t know how hard and I–” _I’m scared,_ he doesn’t say. _I don’t know what to do_.

Wanda tries her best to be reassuring. She looks around the tiny apartment she and Sam have been sharing. Rhodey offered to lend them some money to find a nicer one, but they’d refused. They were mostly here for the kid, but it made sense for them to lay low. If Stark found them, neither could know whether he’d run to the authorities or ignore them or what. He’d probably think they were a bad influence on Spider-Man anyway, despite how obviously upset Peter was at his supposed mentor’s actions just now.

“I am not going to tell you to stop the, um,–“ she loses the word, and has to improvise–“the _pow pow_ and the _boom crash_? I know you won’t. Just, if you see anyone with those weapons, call me, or Sam or Rhodey, or even Stark, before you go do the thing. We are here for you, yes? You do not have to do everything _alone_.”

“What if they catch you? Will they send you back to the Raft?”

At the mention of the prison, Wanda shudders. She tries to stay calm, for Spider-Man’s sake, who’s obviously upset. “You are more important. We want to…keep you safe.”

“You don’t even know _who I am_ ,” says Spidey, appalled. And no, they don’t. But Wanda knows he loves Star Wars and Lego and thinks explosions are cool so long as nobody gets hurt. She knows he gets starstruck every time he meets a hero. (Even when Clint phoned Sam in the middle of a session, Spidey had had to sit down and freak out over _actual Hawkeye being on the phone to a room he was in!!!!_ for a moment before they got back to sparring.) Wanda knows about how much he loves his aunt, and that he’d rather die than let anyone else get hurt. She knows he’s pretty much the smartest kid ever (except for Shuri, who is beyond the realms of genius and is slightly terrifying. And awesome.) Wanda knows he’s a kid. And she knows that there is no way in hell she’s letting Spider-Man get hurt on her watch.

She’s using her best teacher-voice when she expresses this, but she’s not sure how effective it is. “Besides, we’ve broken out of there before. We’ll get out again. If we have to. You are coming to training tomorrow, no?”

“Uh, yeah,” affirms Spidey.

“Fantastic,” says Wanda. Then she says, “I will teach you all Sokovian swears. You will be expert.”

Spidey spends the rest of the conversation gushing about how cool it will be to swear in a foreign language. Apparently, he has many plans for the use of these curse words, many of which involve cussing out his annoying teammate at some club who thinks he’s stupid. Wanda thinks he’s too nice of a kid to do that. She doesn’t say this. Instead, she says, “This will be fun. I will see you tomorrow, then, Spider. Bye-bye.”

 

Really, Wanda was not expecting to get a call so soon, figuring Spidey would take her advice for at _least_ a few weeks. But he calls barely five days later. He’s on a school trip, so training is cancelled. When Wanda gets a call, she assumes it will just be him wanting a chat, or advice on the pronunciation of a Sokovian word.

Instead, he says, “There’s a bomb in the Washington Monument.”

Wanda curses extensively, before remembering Spider-Man can now understand everything he’s saying. So she continues with, “Where are you?”

“Outside. But my classmates are there. And it’s my fault. The bomb–it’s a bit of alien tech, and I didn’t know about it, and–”

Sam is approaching, having returned from his job in a deli a few blocks away. He must notice Wanda’s stricken expression because he gestures to take the phone.

“Hey, kid, Sam here,” he says. There’s a minute while Spidey talks, before Sam says, “Shit. Uh–“

Wanda’s already fumbling for Sam’s own phone. She ignores the weird-old-man sexts from the Captain and sends him a text instead. It reads,  ** _SM in DC. Washington Monument about to blow. He’s going in, needs backup ideally. – W_** , before sending a similar text to Rhodey. The latter responds immediately. His message just reads: **_I don’t know if a quinjet can get there fast enough. How soon is it going to collapse?_**

Wanda shows the message to Sam, who repeats the question to Spidey, who informs them that his AI says that the building will collapse in five minutes. Rhodey says there’s nothing he can do in that short a time.

Finally, Steve responds. **_Natasha’s in DC. Contacting her now._**

It’s the biggest bit of relief Wanda’s ever felt. She texted Rhodey. **_Can we get a quinjet anyway? Almost certain somebody’s going to try and arrest Natasha in an hour or so._**

 

* * *

 

Natasha was just having a normal, espionage-filled day. She’d been hanging around the Washington Monument all morning, people watching. It’s her idea of hiding in plain sight: she sits on a bench, pretends to read Anne Brontë, and watches the people coming by. An elderly couple swings a child on their arms, who giggles frenziedly. A teenager is telling her friend were telling a story that involved lots of kissing and a decent amount of puke. A group of school-kids on a trip wander past, yelling excitedly while one waves a trophy. At the back, one is on the phone, obviously angry. After a small discussion, the group goes inside, leaving one girl outside, who rolls up her sleeves and comes to sit by Natasha.

For five minutes, everything is fine. Then the explosion hits. Natasha curses her lifestyle. It seems to her as though she’s doomed to a life of explosions and disaster. She isn’t wearing her combat suit, so her sweats will have to do. She jumps up as the kid next to her does the same. Natasha chucked her book into her bag and is about to begin running towards the disaster when Spider-Man descends from– _somewhere_.

“My friends are in there,” cries the girl in the yellow jacket.

“ _What?_ ” exclaims Spider-Man. He curses in Sokovian– _what?_ –and speaks to what Natasha assumed was an AI. “Karen, call W–uh, the magic lady.”

The kid swings away, but not before Natasha hears him say something about a bomb. She definitely needs to get up there. As Spider-Man climbs up to a window, the Black Widow stows her bag in a bush and approaches the doorway. She passes through the metal detector, ignoring the beeps she sets off and the evident alarm written all over everyone’s faces at the sight of Natasha Romanoff, Wanted Criminal and General Femme Fatale. Natasha shoulders past the crowds and hurries for the stairs, ignoring the closed-off signs. She’s glad she’s been working out: these stairs are a nightmare. Eventually, she makes it up, panting and spluttering, even if she would never admit it. At the same time, Spider-Man bursts through one of the windows and begins webbing things up.

“Spider-Man,’ she cries. “Need some help?”

“Ms. Black Widow, ma’am! I knew Wanda would get someone to help. Uh, not that I know with any of the Rogue Avengers, or anything…” he says, sheepishly. Steve was right. There’s no way this kid is older than eighteen. “Anyway. If I hold up the elevator, can you get them out?”

He disappears inside the elevator, shooting a web to hold himself up as he does so. One of the kids pushes forward to be the first allowed out. He emerges from the elevator and holds out his hand for her to grab. She pulls, careful not to hurt the kid. The staff, seemingly coming to their senses, begin to help her pull him out.

One by one, the kids emerge, until there’s only one left. This would be hard to maneuver: this girl couldn’t climb over other people like the others had, and the elevator is getting lower and lower.

“Spider-Man,” orders Natasha, “you’re going to have to pull this one out.”

Then she notices the webbing holding up the elevator slowly snapping, and adds, “And quickly!”

Natasha reaches for the girl. So does Spider-Man.

The webbing snaps.

Someone screams.

The elevator falls.

Natasha has to hold back the screaming kids from jumping after their friend.

A web shoots above her head and sticks to the doorframe. Spider-Man pulls the girl up and sets her on solid ground next to Natasha. For a moment, he looks at the girl through his mask. Then he falls. Again.

Natasha says, “Sorry, but excuse me. I gotta go make sure he’s alright and also not get arrested.”

She backflips into the shaft and climbs down.

 

The quinjet is waiting when they emerge.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Black Widow, ma’am,” exclaims Spider-Man.

Sam rolls his eyes at his earnestness and Wanda hugs him. “Nat, you good?” asks Sam.

“Fine. Glad I chose to people-watch here and not at the Air and Space Museum. Or something.”

Police cars are beginning to roll up. “I gotta go,” says Spider-Man. “They’ll question me about you guys if I’m not out of costume soon.”

“You did good, Spider-Man,” Nat says.

“I’m proud, Spidey,” adds Wanda.

Sam gives him a high-five. Spider-Man leaves.

 

“I knew Spider-Man was young,” says Natasha, as she paints her nails red on the dilapidated couch in Sam and Wanda’s apartment, “I just didn’t realize how young.”

“He’s a good kid,” says Sam, whose nails are being painted by Wanda.

“This is a good colour on you, Sam,” remarks Wanda, waving the green polish she’s holding. “I’m glad Spidey’s okay.”

“Yeah. He’s a dumb kid, but a good kid. His aunt’s done a damn good job.”


	3. Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott gets a FaceTime call from an unknown number one day while he’s lying upside down watching HGTV and eating spaghetti. He’s thinking about what would happen if he grew a bit of spaghetti to be human-sized (it would most likely involve Hope being very, very disappointed in him) when his ringtone starts to blare. He sits upright and reaches over to grab it, wiping tomato sauce from his cheek as he does. He clicks answer; the caller is a teary-eyed kid wearing some oversized t-shirt that reads _I Survived My Trip To NYC_. Fat tears roll down his face.
> 
> “Sorry, Scott, it’s just Wanda gave me your number, and I’m in a—I don’t know what to do, and I talked to my aunt but it’s hard because she doesn’t know about it and I really just am so mad at myself but also at Mr. Stark and—“
> 
> Scott eventually pieces together that the teenage boy on the screen is Spider-Man. He says, “Woah, kiddo. Slow down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my knowledge on how to install security systems comes entirely from that one jtv episode after the baby gets kidnapped. i did google it but life is difficult & i could only find a yt video that was like... a full hour and a half and i dont have the patience for that. so here we are glossing smoothly over the entire premise of this chapter lmao

Scott gets a FaceTime call from an unknown number one day while he’s lying upside down watching HGTV and eating spaghetti. He’s thinking about what would happen if he grew a bit of spaghetti to be human-sized (it would most likely involve Hope being very, very disappointed in him) when his ringtone starts to blare. He sits upright and reaches over to grab it, wiping tomato sauce from his cheek as he does. The number is unknown. He clicks answer; the caller is some teary-eyed kid wearing some oversized t-shirt that reads _I Survived My Trip To NYC_. Fat tears roll down his face.

“Sorry, Scott, it’s just Wanda gave me your number, and I’m in a—I don’t know what to do, and I talked to my aunt but it’s hard because she doesn’t know about it and I really just am so mad at myself but also at Mr. Stark and—“

Scott eventually pieces together that the teenage boy on the screen is Spider-Man. He says, “Woah, kiddo. Slow down.”

Onscreen, the presenter yammers about backsplashes.

“Sorry, did I interrupt something?” asks Spider-Man. He looks sheepish.

“Nah,” says Scott, muting the TV. “I love Chip and Joanna, but you’re more important.”

Spider-Man laughs. It’s a little wet and thick through the tears, but it’s still a laugh. He explains: about the ferry and the FBI and Stark and losing the suit. At the end, Scott wants to reach through the tiny screen and hug him. Or possibly punch Stark. Maybe more than once.

Instead, he says, “Look, kid, you did what you thought was right. You probably should have called someone before you went after him, but there’s no way you could have known about the FBI. You’re not telepathic, unless spiders can suddenly read minds.”

The kid laughs again. He rubs his arm sheepishly and says, “Thanks, Scott.”

“No problem.” Really, the least Tony could’ve done was tell Peter he was sorting it out. Steve was right. Communication really was not the guy’s strong suit.

“It was just... scary, you know? When the ship fell apart and I-there was nothing I could do.”

“You did your best. And yeah, you screwed it up. But it wasn’t really your fault. Keep doing good things, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Scott,” murmurs the kid, smiling a little.

“Hey,” says Scott. “Anything for my Bug Buddy.”

He saves Spider-Man’s number in his phone, and returns to his spaghetti, fairly proud of himself.

 

When Scott gets a frantic call from Rhodey the next day, telling him that Spider-Man’s Homecoming date’s dad dropped a building on the kid, he has to stop himself from getting on the first plane to New York, house arrest be damned. Instead, he sends a (hopefully) comforting text as well of a selfie of him and Cassie making hearts with their hands. He feels a little useless, and has to restrain himself from ripping the anklet to pieces and going to the airport, if just to make sure Spider-Man isn’t dead.

Eventually, Spider-Man sends him a smiley and couple of thumbs up. He doesn’t seem very talkative, which is unlike him. Normally, Peter sends five texts for every one of Scott’s. Not that Scott minds. He likes the chatter.

Realising he’s not going to get any details from Spidey himself, Scott calls Sam.

“ _Finally,_ a responsible adult to talk to,” says Sam. He’s like an old man. Scott tells him so.

“ _You_ try being shut up in an apartment with only a nineteen-year-old freaking out over the reckless bullshit of a fifteen-year-old while also having no news source except Rhodey, who’s in the middle of a meeting!” is the response. “I mean, Wanda’s a great roomie most of the time–no mess, always sneaking around with Vision–but this is the most stressful thing.”

Scott desperately wants to discuss Wanda and the orange robot (he’d thought she had a _bit_ more class), but he figures now is not the time, even though this is the first bit of good gossip they’ve had in a while that wasn’t somebody getting injured. Instead, he inquires after Spider-Man.

“He okay?”

“Think so. There’s no tracker on his suit anymore, though–Tony took away his fancy one after the ferry. Which is absolute bullshit. Kid’s reckless but if Stark had bothered talking to him none of this would have happened.”

Scott starts. “Poor kid. That guy really needs to learn how to communicate with people.”

Sam mutters something extremely insulting. Scott chooses to ignore this. Instead, he changes the subject. “Any word on Barnes?”

“Nothing new. Steve’s miserable, T’Challa’s the best, the usual.”

Steve is always miserable. T’Challa is always the best. None of this is any news. He makes small talk with Sam for a while, congratulating himself on zero badly timed jokes. Wanda shows up at some point, and lets them know that the kid has returned home alive. According to Vision, Stark is planning to make him an Avenger, despite the fact that then he’ll definitely have to reveal his identity if he does. Sam starts to talk loudly about child endangerment, which Scott backs up with the occasional ‘Yeah!’ and “Uh-huh!’ because he’s really too furious to say anything else.

Apparently, Rhodey is talking to Stark about this stuff. Scott feels more than a little useless. He glares accusingly at the anklet.

“Stupid laws,” he mutters, and goes to make dinner. Cassie’s staying at his tonight, and Luis wants to come over. Apparently there’s some sort of issue with the business. Also, his cooking is apparently “the shit”. While he’s waiting by the oven, he tells Rhodey to keep him posted.

Rhodey says, **_Will do._**

He’s distracted the rest of the week, but when Rhodey texts to say the kid refused the offer, Scott practically jumps out of his seat with excitement. Cassie looks at him suspiciously. Scott does his best poker face.

She’s not convinced.

 ** _Kid’s smart,_** sends Sam.

**_Hell yeah he is._ **

 

Scott doesn’t get another call from Peter for several weeks. In between then, he reunites with Hope, who chews him out, then chews out every other Avenger in turn.

“The accords are a load of garbage,” she grouses, “but you could have _told me_ you were going rogue to fight them.”

Having his body taken over by his ex-girlfriend’s mom is weird. It felt a little like he was back in the quantum realm, murky and dim. Then he was back up, his consciousness coughing for air. And Hank was travelling in a weird realm with weirder logic and even weirder magic, and the FBI was after him. So, really, a normal afternoon.

He goes to Hope’s for dinner one night, after his anklet has been taken off. They eat takeaway Chinese and Scott rants about the genius of The Fault In Our Stars while Hope laughs at him. (He doesn’t know why. TFIOS is the book to end all other books.) His phone starts vibrating violently.

Checking the Caller ID, he says, “I should probably take this,” and heads to the hall.

When he picks up, Spider-Man says, “I’m sorry, Scott, I just– I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About Homecoming?” Scott asks, even though it’s obvious.

“Yeah. It’s just, the Vulture knows who I am. _You_ don’t even know who am.” Peter is obviously distressed.

“I know your first name,” offers Scott. “And I know you’re pretty cool, kiddo.”

“Yeah, but the Vulture knows my _school_ , and my friends, and my aunt–What if he gets out, Scott? What if he comes for them?”

Scott knows this feeling. He gets it every day of his life. He’s never really bothered with a secret identity, and Cross had gone after Cassie. He’d endangered her, he endangers her every time he puts on his suit and goes off to help Hope save the city/the world/the universe. “Yikes, I get it, kiddo. It’s going to be okay, I promise.” He gets an idea. “You know I run a security business, right? How about, next time I’m in New York, I head over to rig a little security system up in your house? If you’re willing to give me your address, and stuff. You don’t have to.”

Peter takes a long breath, and agrees.

“Okay, great,” says Scott. “Now listen, Spidey, I gotta run, because I’m sort of on a date. Not that I wouldn’t prioritise your safety over my dating life any day of the week! But I’d really recommend talking to someone more local about this. Maybe Rhodes? At least for now…”

Peter says he’ll talk to Rhodey, and Scott agrees that would probably be for the best. He hangs up, and Scott heads back to the kitchen. Hope grins at him around a mouthful of chicken.

“Spider-Man? I thought you weren’t supposed to be aware of Avengers stuff?”

Scott shrugs. “I’m not _supposed_ to be talking to you.”

That makes Hope laugh. She pokes at her dinner with her chopsticks. Scott takes his back up and points a chopstick at her. “Anyway, he’s fifteen. Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on him, because Stark sure as hell isn’t.”

“No shit,” says Hope. She looks pretty angry. “Didn’t he just fight some crazy winged guy… _without_ his fancy suit?”

Scott looks down at his food. “He got it taken away, for not reading Stark’s mind, more or less.”

“That man–!“ Hope begins. Scott gives her a look. A look that says, _I totally get it, but right now you’re wanted by the FBI and there’s literally nothing we can do_. Since when did he become the rational one?

“So what did he want?” she says.

Scott explains, talking about the training and the Washington Monument disaster and the ferry and the Vulture. Hope is fuming by the end of it. So is he. “Anyway,” he says, “I offered to go to New York, install a security system in his house for him.”

Hope nods. “That’s good.” She smiles at him. It’s warm and comforting and Scott feels like he’s full of honey. He watches her, as she watches him. His entire body feels as though it’s been drenched in gentle sunshine.

“C’mon,” he says, finally. “The Fixer Upper reruns are on.”

Hope laughs, and leans forward to kiss him.

 

Which is how Scott ends up on an uncomfortable plane, crammed between a miserable-looking pregnant woman and a business man who had leered at him as he sat down. At least five different babies are crying. It’s at this point he really wishes he hadn’t (accidentally) forced Hank into hiding so that he could borrow his private jet. If he had one. Scott thought he probably did. Instead, he’s here, on the cheapest possible flight he could find, ready to help a kid in need but causing his knees extreme pain in the process. Scott opens his own phone and thumbs through his messages with Spider-Man. The kid had seemed beyond surprised when Scott told him he actually intended to follow through on his offer of a security system, and had then objected violently to the idea of it being free-of-charge.

So Scott had called his aunt, who Spidey had let slip now knew about his extracurricular activities. May had been more than a little unwelcoming, berating him for enabling Spider-Man’s Spider-Manning, which Scott accepted with remarkable dignity. She’d met Sam and Wanda already, demanding to meet the people who were, as Sam put it, “teaching the kid how to endanger himself more safely”, and had subsequently had, according to Rhodey, a huge argument with Tony Stark. Peter’s patrol hours were limited and a curfew had been put in place. Scott can’t help but wonder how Peter had persuaded her to let him keep doing his thing at all. 

He understands where May’s coming from, though. Scott reckons he would have done the same, in her place.

The businessman appears to be trying to read Scott’s texts over his shoulder, so he exits out of it and pulls up his Netflix account. On the Great British Bake-Off, somebody’s chocolate carousel is crumbling. It’s very dramatic.

 

Several hours later, Scott runs out of episodes. The plane is landing. As they touch down, Scott half expects Iron Man to burst onto the plane and arrest him instantly. He doesn’t. Besides, he’s not _technically_ breaking any of Woo’s rules. Spider-Man’s not a Rogue Avenger, he’s just a kid. A kid who is visibly scared, and who needs help. The customs officer squints at him suspiciously anyway. To be fair, his face _was_ all over the news a few years ago. Scott smiles at the guy across the counter, who eventually lets him through.

Sam Wilson is waiting for him outside, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and hands shoved into his pockets. He’s wearing large sunglasses, and smiling. Scott doesn’t acknowledge him, instead putting on a similar hat and following Sam at a distance to a beat-up van. He climbs in the passenger seat as Sam pulls himself into the driver’s.

“There’s no way they’re not going to figure out that this is you,” Scott says.

“Eh,” says Sam. “I’m heading back to Wakanda soon. They’re about to wake Barnes up and I gotta… I gotta be there. Not that I really care about that son of a bitch, but… for Steve, y’know?”

Scott nods. He doesn’t understand how Steve is feeling, not really, but he can still empathise. And it must be hard as shit, he supposes.

They make small talk for the rest of the drive. The windows of the car are tinted slightly to hide them from view. Sam drums his fingers agitatedly against the steering wheel every time they hit traffic.

Eventually, they pull up in front of an apartment building. Sam lets him out after warning him against anything stupid.

(“I _never_ do anything stupid!”

“Didn’t you fall asleep in the middle of the sea on National TV while you were under house arrest last month?”)

Scott presses the buzzer, and ascends in the elevator towards the Parker’s home.

The woman who answers the door is wearing the coolest pants Scott has ever seen. They have elephants on them. They’re also flares. Scott decides in that moment that May Parker is legendary.

She gives him a cool once-over and says, “Scott, right?”

He nods, feeling a little sheepish. “I brought my alarms, and stuff.”

 

Peter comes home from school just as Scott finishes up.

“What’s up, Bug Buddy?” Scott asks, extending a hand for a fist-bump. Peter returns it eagerly.

“Scott! It’s so nice to finally meet you… properly. When I’m not fighting you, I mean.”

Scott judges that discussions of the Germany Nightmare are not to be had in front of May. She looks pretty mad.

Instead, he says, “You going patrolling?”

“Nah,” Peter shrugs. “Last training session before Sam leaves.” He looks a little despondent. “Wanda’s leaving, as well.”

“They’ve been here for a long time,” Scott says, checking that his system works properly. “I’d join you, but I think meeting up with them so soon would be a bad idea. They’re definitely keeping tabs on me. It was pretty risky of me to get a ride from Sam.”

Peter nods. “I’ll see you, then.”

He heads to another room to change. Scott turns to May. “I’m so sorry, about everything.”

“Did you know?” she asks. “In Germany, did you know how old he was?”

“No. It was pretty awful, when I found out. It was–Rhodey, he overheard Stark talking about it, and he freaked out. Mrs. Parker–“

“May, please,” she says. She fiddles with some teabags, bringing a mug over to him.

“Okay,” he says. “I get how awful this must be for you. Hell, when I found out about it my first thought was how I’d feel if that was my daughter. I put her in danger all the time. I don’t know if you know, but Yellowjacket–nasty bald guy, huge ego?–he attacked her. Right in her own bedroom. And it was the worst I’d ever felt. Ever. Because it was all my fault, you know? But, May, this thing with Peter, it’s not your fault.”

May looks at him, with deep trembling eyes. “I know,” she says. “I know, but it still sucks ass.”

“He’s making this choice. It’s a reckless choice, but he’s got a good heart. And he’s got people looking after him. Falcon and Scarlet Witch and War Machine, and even Stark, sort of,” he says. “And I don’t know loads about you, but you seem like a pretty badass lady. You’ve raised him with a good heart–it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. He’s just trying to help people in the best way he can think of. You’re a great guardian.”

May smiles, thinly. “You seem like a great dad. Thank you for looking out for him.”

That makes Scott choke up a little. He swallows it. “Man, I am _tired_. You ever watch Fixer Upper?”

May laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like this one! scott's voice is surprisingly hard to write though so i hope i got his voice well enough. xoxo


End file.
